The XO-Files: Potter Edition
by Barefoot XO
Summary: A collection of Harry Potter crossover plot starters that I am too busy to work on. They're coming at me from all directions and I'm hoping someone will take them off my hands, if you want to do it please review and tell me which one you'd like. Currently they're intended to be mostly Harry-centered.
1. Prongs, James Prongs (HP & James Bond)

I don't own Harry Potter or James Bond. They belong to Joanne Rowling and Ian Fleming respectively.

If you are interested in Harry Potter / Buffy the Vampire Slayer Crossovers, please seek out The XO-Files: Buffy Edition and look for the chapters: The Unspeakables and Mummy's Here. All HP/BtVS Crossovers will be located there, now and in the future.

* * *

 **Prongs, James Prongs**

When James Potter is approached by MI-6, shortly after his graduation from Hogwart's, he is offered the opportunity to become the legendary 007… James Bond.

* * *

 _Skyfall ~ Potter Family Estate, Scottish Highlands_

 _June 21_ _st_ _, 1978_

Empty. That was the word that best described Skyfall after the death of James parents. The echoing mansion had harboured the Potter family for over a millennium now. It had existed since Scotland had. And now it was a mausoleum. James took a pull of expensive fire-whiskey, not caring whether it was the good stuff that had been laid down by his great grandfather or a bottle of the virtual lighter-fluid you could get at the Hog's Head. Frankly, all James cared about at the moment was getting royally blitzed.

A firm rap at the door shook James from his growing buzz. He attempted to make his mind work, trying to grasp who might be calling on him. It wouldn't be Moony or Padfoot. The day before had been the full moon and Remus Lupin would be sleeping it off. Sirius had volunteered to hang out with Remus, reasoning that James wasn't feeling up to it. That meant that Sirius would be sleeping too. Peter was unlikely. The poor sod was much too busy caring for his ailing mother to drop everything for James. Lily was possible, but unlikely. As much as Lily might have preferred to skip out to hang out with him, she couldn't very well miss her own sister's wedding. Frankly, James had intended to accompany her before his family tree had been so brutally pruned by a Death Eater raid.

The rap at the door sounded again, jarring James from his thoughts. Perhaps he should answer the door? Bollocks to that. "Kinky!"

A crack occurred and a grumpy-looking house elf leveled an impressive glare at his master. "Master James is being knowing that Kincade's name is Kincade. He mustn't be called Kinky!"

James cracked a faint smile at the irritable old elf. They had been having that argument for more than a decade and his elf wasn't about to give up on making his beloved, most of the time, master, remember his proper name. "Of course, Kinky. Could you please get the door?"

The elf huffed indignantly, torn between the bond that required him to get to work and his irritation at again being called by that infernal nickname. "Master needs to grow a new sense of humour. Kincade is thinking that this one has gone stale." With that parting shot, the elf popped away to see to the door.

James felt his good humour fade as quickly as his servant had. Life just wasn't as funny as it once had been. He rolled his liquor around in its crystal goblet, watching it enrapt. Why couldn't his parents have just fled Diagon Alley like all of the cowards had? No… His parents just had to stand up to the bad guys. He wanted more than anything to hate them for that. Unfortunately, there was too much of him that respected them for that. No. It was much easier and safer to hate the cowards who had fled, leaving his parents as just two against a dozen.

A crack heralded the return of Kincade to the sitting room. "A Miss Moneypenny is here to see you, Master." The elf waved grandly at the older woman who was walking through the portal.

James stood up, shrugging off his faint buzz with the ease of long practice. Apparently those illicit drinking games on the day before an exam had been good for something after all. "I don't believe I've had the pleasure, Miss Moneypenny. Do I know your family, perhaps?"

The woman smiled sympathetically. "My deepest condolences on the loss of your family, Mr. Potter. I understand that they were both quite impressive in their heyday."

James swallowed a lump in his throat at that. Harold and Mary Potter had been over eighty when they died. The muggles would have doubtless boggled at a sixty-five-year-old new mother, but with a witch's expanded lifespan it was a rarity, but not unheard of. James' parents had indeed been impressive spell-casters all the way into their seventies. The eighties had, unfortunately, begun to take a toll upon their speed and flexibility. James shook himself from the thought. "I'll ask again, Miss Moneypenny. Do I know your family?" There was a faint hint of threat in his voice that time. James was growing tired of people who talked around him. Dumbledore did enough of that for everyone.

The woman frowned slightly. Apparently she thought he was being rude. "No, Mr. Potter, you would not know me, or my family. I am here at the behest of my employer to invite you in for a job interview."

James shook his head. "I don't know what you've heard, but it's my intention to join the aurors. They need everyone they can get, these days, and I intend to help them." The young wizard straightened up. "Voldemort and his Death Eaters need to get what's coming to them."

Moneypenny nodded agreeably. "He does indeed. Still, there are many young wizards going that route. My employer offers a different path… a path that will involve you working to cut off his international support."

Potter placed his goblet on the sideboard and stared at the woman for a long moment. "You're with the ministry?"

Eve Moneypenny's smirk was radiant. "In a manner of speaking… Though probably not in the manner you are speaking of…"

James pinched his nose in irritation. This was going to be a long conversation. He could tell.

* * *

 _MI-6 Headquarters_

 _June 21_ _st_ _, 1978_

Dressed in a crisp, tailored suit, which Moneypenny had provided for him, James stepped into the office of his perspective employer. "You're M, I take it?"

The elderly gentleman before him smiled faintly at him. "I am indeed, Mr. Potter. I'm glad you chose to take my invitation."

James shifted uncomfortably at that. "I haven't, precisely. I just decided to offer you the opportunity to convince me not to join the aurors."

M snorted eloquently. "I'll put it to you in simple terms, Mr. Potter. The aurors are a fine concept, but they are hampered by corrupt bureaucrats on every level. Between the Minister for Magic and the Wizengamot, any auror who isn't corrupt themselves is basically hamstringed. Worse still, many aurors who try to do their jobs regardless find themselves up on charges when they harass 'upstanding citizens'." James could literally hear the quotation marks in M's voice. I will not pretend that Her Majesty's government is perfect or without corruption. Every government has it to some small extent, but at least we are honest enough that you would be able to do your job without having to break the law."

The young wizard looked at the older man for a long moment, considering him. "And what do you see as my job?"

M smirked. "If you mean your job as an auror, that's not for me to say. If you mean your job working for Her Majesty's Secret Service, well then… I'll have your oath that you will keep everything you see and hear quiet. No one may know the details of your work. You may reveal to your wife whom it is you work for, but nothing beyond that."

"I'm not married."

"I'm well aware of that, Mr. Potter. My point stands. Only your wife, when and if you have one, may know who you work for. Do we have a binding agreement?"

James licked his lips nervously and considered. These muggles seemed to really want to clean up the trash. It seemed like this would probably violate the Statute of Secrecy in a whole bunch of ways… And yet… And yet this seemed to be exactly what he really wanted to do. "You have my oath, Mr. M."

"Just M, thank you. Well then, Mr. Potter. Welcome to MI-6."

* * *

 _MI-6_

 _Over Time_

James quickly discovered why he had been picked above so many. It was because he was a pureblood who was familiar with the ins and outs of wizarding society. He had assumed that a muggleborn would be a better choice, like Lily, so as to be able to function well in the muggle world, but M had made his point eloquently clear. "We can easily train you to function in the muggle world, Mr. Potter, MI-6 has been doing that since we were MI-6. Teaching you to function in that world is another matter entirely.

Q was a truly fascinating fellow. He had done something to James' eyes with lasers which was reputedly still years from being viable for civilians. He called it LASIK. James called it a miracle when he was able to see properly for the very first time without his glasses. He still had a pair of glasses to wear when he was himself, of course, but his MI-6 persona was going to be far easier to detect without distinctive-looking glasses frames spoiling the game.

Potter thanked Merlin every day that he was ridiculously active for a wizard. His long quidditch career, full moon romps as a stag and his constant fleeing from Filch had all combined with his restless personality to provide him with a core of athleticism that MI-6 was able to build upon with training in close-quarters combat and distance running, among other things. Spell accuracy training had also helped him with marksmanship, though using a gun was taking some getting used to. The only unfortunate thing was that his animagus form was not all that useful for hiding from a pursuer. Outside of the wilderness, Prongs was even more conspicuous than James was on his worst day. Ah well. Nothing was perfect.

* * *

 _Vladivostok Soviet Union_

 _April 13_ _th_ _, 1979_

James crept into a public restroom, straightening the tie of his tailored suit. He had been working towards this moment for the better part of a year. He had actually used a stolen time turner to speed things along somewhat. M had been impressed at his initiative. Lily, now his wife, was worried about the sheer frantic drive that had possessed her new husband. Today was the day. Today he became a 00 agent… licensed to kill.

He glared at his target with fiery intent. Sergei Karkaroff was washing his hands in the restroom, calmly washing away the blood that was there. James sneered faintly. Karkaroff and his elder brother Igor were both marked Death Eaters, recruiting in their native Soviet Union. Sergei apparently had a real thing for torture. Now James had permission to take out the trash.

"You vould like to kill me, eh Comrade?" The Death Eater smirked darkly in the mirror at him. "Yes. I see you there." James said nothing. He had been seen, but his mission was still a go. "Vell then. Take your best shot."

The fight between them was fast and fierce. James managed to close the distance quickly, taking their wands out of the equation and shifting the battle into a fistfight. In a duel the older Karkaroff had a sizable advantage over him. In a fistfight, James' youth, stamina and combat training made him the favourite. It was not long before Karkaroff was lying on the floor, bleeding, staring down the barrel of James' new Walther PPK. "Who are you?"

James smirked coldly. "My name is Bond, James Bond…"

* * *

Oh dear… And here is my last August entry for 2015. I hope it was worth the wait.

If you are interested in writing this plot, drop me a line via the reviews.

Jasper


	2. Prophecy Comes Together (HP & A-Team)

I don't own Harry Potter or the A-Team. They belong to Joanne Rowling and Stephen J. Cannell & Frank Lupo respectively.

* * *

 **I Love It When a Prophecy Comes Together**

 _A desperate letter from Lily Potter to her old friend Templeton Peck starts the A-Team on a job that will take them almost two decades to complete… The destruction of Lord Voldemort and the guardianship of Harry Potter, hereafter known as The Fixer. *cue music*_

* * *

Dear Templeton

I know that we haven't seen each other since 1979, Templeton. You're busy trying to stay ahead of Lynch and his cronies so that you can one day prove your innocence. I, meanwhile, have been rebuilding a family out of the shattered remnants that remain after the car crash that killed Mum and Dad.

I know we never knew each other that well, Templeton, but we are cousins and blood is thicker than water. You know what I am. I told you and you accepted it. Now I ask… no I beg for your help… Harry, my son, is in grave danger. The man I told you about, the one we do not name, has targeted my baby boy for death. I don't know why except there is prophecy is involved. I don't really care about that.

I remember you telling me that if I was ever in trouble that I could hire the A-Team. Well here I am asking to hire you. Protect Harry and stop the monster who hunts him. I will hold out as best I can until you can get here. Please, Templeton… Hurry.

Love from

Lily

* * *

Hannibal Smith turned to his resident expert in manipulation and raised a questioning eyebrow. Templeton 'The Faceman' Peck had asked his boss to read the letter, obviously asking Hannibal if they could take the job. Smith's problem was that he really didn't know what to think of the letter. It was absolutely rife with code-words and in-crowd phrases like 'the one we do not name' and 'you know what I am' and 'prophecy'. "I know you want me to agree to this, Face, but you're gonna have to give me more than this?" He gestured at the letter disgustedly. "I don't understand half of what she's saying except that some nut job is out to kill her kid."

Face wrung his hands, looking uncharacteristically vulnerable, especially so since he wasn't currently running a con for them. The man could, but rarely did, pull off vulnerability when he had to, but it didn't come naturally. "Lily is my cousin. She's part of a closed society that's in Britain. I met her a couple of times before 'Nam and then once more after, back in '79. You remember, when we split up for a bit?"

Hannibal chewed on his cigar and glared at his subordinate. "Yes, Face. I remember. Now get on with it, Lieutenant."

Face instinctively came to attention at the snap of irritated command that had entered Smith's voice. "Right. Well… Lily's a witch…"

Peck was faintly surprised to see that Hannibal didn't so much as flinch, looking patently unsurprised. "Okay… I assume you mean the wand-waving kind and not some pagan chick that dances about naked?"

Face once more tried to gather himself. He'd known Hannibal was experienced, but he was surprised that the man had known about the secret society. Finally he gathered himself and began moving his story forward. "Okay, so there's this wizard that's really bad news in Britain. Lily wouldn't name him. She said his name was taboo or something, which tells you just how bad he must be. She's concerned that Harry is being targeted by this nut-job and is hoping we can bring our own unique brand of mayhem to bear and solve her problem."

Hannibal puffed at his cigar, considering the situation. A man that they wouldn't even name. A wizard bad guy. That promised to be a tough mission, but his people were the very best. The colonel blew out a smoke ring and offered up a childlike smirk. "I suppose we need to go to Britain then, eh Face?"

"Errr… I guess so, Boss…"

"Then I guess you'd better figure out how you're going to knock out B.A. for the plane ride over there…"

"Oh Boss…" Face whined.

"Remember Face… You asked for this job. That means you get the dubious honour of knocking out B.A."

* * *

"I still can't believe y'all knocked me out… again. And then you put me on a plane… again. Haven't I told you how much I hate planes, Hannibal?"

"Just concentrate on Privet Drive, B.A. You can rant at us some more later. I promise that I've got a nice boat booked to take us back to the States. We were just in a hurry to get here."

"I don't believe you, Hannibal. I don't believe there is a boat. I think y'all are tryin' to trick me again. Well it ain't gonna work this time, Hannibal. This time there _is_ gonna be a boat, or I'm gonna get mad. Do you hear me?"

"I hear you, B.A. Now how does it look?"

"Can't say I'm impressed, Hannibal. I've never seen a more miserable lookin' bunch of folks. Did you see the looks I was getting' when I was just walkin' down their street. You'd think those folks had never seen a black guy before."

Face snorted. "I don't know what offended them more, B.A. It could have been your race, your haircut, your van or most likely your tax bracket. The people in this neighbourhood put the mental in judgemental."

"You said a mouthful, Face. These people are crazy. Take it from an expert."

The other members of the A-Team turned to the speaker, one H.M. Murdock, and just marveled at the idea that the mentally unstable pilot had judged _other people_ to be unstable. Not that they disagreed, of course, they were just marveling at the irony of it all.

Face pursed his lips. "We can't leave the kid here, Boss. I think we're agreed?"

Hannibal nodded grimly. "Even if they weren't abusive of him in the normal sense, they'd just treat him like their own son, which might actually be worse. The problem is, what do we do with him? An orphanage or foster care wouldn't be much better and might well be worse."

"I want to take him, Hannibal."

Smith actually spat out his cigar over that one. "You what? Face, are you on something? We're on the run from the government. What kind of a life can we possibly give him?"

Face shrugged. "A life with a father, grandfather and two uncles that care about him. A life that allows him to help others. A life learning the life skills of four of the best operators in the business. A life that will make him hard to nail down for this unnamed guy. Personally, I think we could do pretty well by the kid."

Hannibal stood frozen for a long moment as he actually considered the Lieutenant's mad scheme. He was shocked to find that, as absurd as it sounded, it might be the best choice for young Harry Potter. "Okay Face, here's what we're going to do…"

* * *

Petunia Dursley was a perfectly miserable person, thank you very much. Ever since that little Potter brat had arrived on her doorstep a week prior, she had been forced to put with raising not one but two toddlers. Her own Dudley was exhausting enough. She didn't need to be putting up with the Potter child's constant crying and begging for Mummy, Daddy and Padfoot, whoever that last was. Nasty unnatural name. Padfoot was certainly one of those freaks, hopefully a dead one. He or she certainly deserved it for having the audacity to be called by such a name.

A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. Maybe it was those darned Jehovah's Witnesses agains. Oh how she'd like to show them the business end of her frying pan. She ripped the door open to find a dark-haired man in a suit, wearing glasses and holding out his hand. "Hello there, Mrs. Dursley. I'm Charles Potter. I was hoping I could prevail upon you to transfer custody of my nephew to me…"

Petunia Dursley could not sign the paperwork fast enough. She didn't even read half of the things that she was signing. She just wanted the freak out of her house… both freaks, really, because this Potter man had to be a freak too, despite his nice suit. Harry Potter, age one, was out the door with his supposed uncle in less than fifteen minutes flat.

* * *

After taking custody of Harry away from Petunia Dursley, Templeton Peck than put his keen mind to forging a new life for his new _son_. He started by inventing a mother. He used a conveniently deceased homeless woman who was native to Britain and had been alive and of an age where she could still have conceived a child back 1979. With that accomplished, Peck forged Harry's new birth certificate. Tristan Harold Peck was born. Face smirked. The A-Team had just gotten a little bigger. "I love it when a plan comes together…"

* * *

Oh what I did…

If you'd like to take this plot off my hands just drop me a line via the reviews...

Jasper


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